Currently trying to convince my wife to part with one who's turning out to have the same personality. Already, the dogs aren't safe around here.I was bound and determined not to be a cat person, until we were "donated" a feline rescue, 3 times. Frig. Hating them was impossible.
Being sentient creatures they had distinguishable characters just like all domestic animals. And I learned a great deal about myself and the world through being "an owner". Just like having children, there's a lot to learn and work out. I'm thankful for all that because I needed it.
But there was one psycho cat I would've loved to have taken tripping. She was already feral and weird beyond reasonable and would've certainly upset the delicate hierarchy in the wild woods. In the event that tabby enfant terrible chose to join the forest all the bad arsed Sasquatch/demons would've been usurped by a new hurricane of seething hate. Albeit she did purr with people, provided you didn't try to pet her. But all this is moot, because she wasn't fond of car rides. Only one of us would've survived the drive north, and my money isn't on me.
sounds like our "Muffin"- we knew she hated both change and strangers, and barely tolerated us. We took her to the vet for a rabies shot one time- she literally chewed the plastic crate apart in less than 20 minutes, tore up both my arms through a heavy denim shirt, and traumatized every person and animal in the waiting room (ever seen a rotti cower under a chair, shaking and whining in fright from an 8 1/2 lb cat? I have...). they bumped her up on the schedule just to get her away from the other animals. the vet tried and gave up- she called BOTH large animal handlers (one of whom volunteered at the Toronto Zoo and worked with LARGE cats) who came prepared with moving blankets and heavy leather welding gauntlets for them and the vet- Muffin proceeded to shred the blankets and actually sliced the welding gloves that the vet was wearing wide open with her nails, and inflicted a wound on the back of her hand that required 3 stitches, eventually, with my wife and I holding the back legs, the two techs holding the front legs, and the vet maintaining a headlock, she finally got her shot. afterwards, when we paid the bill, the vet handed us 2 tranquilizers to be given before leaving home, requested we find another vet, and marked her file in red sharpie "DANGER, remarkably nasty, do not treat unless anesthetized"...I was bound and determined not to be a cat person, until we were "donated" a feline rescue, 3 times. Frig. Hating them was impossible.
Being sentient creatures they had distinguishable characters just like all domestic animals. And I learned a great deal about myself and the world through being "an owner". Just like having children, there's a lot to learn and work out. I'm thankful for all that because I needed it.
But there was one psycho cat I would've loved to have taken tripping. She was already feral and weird beyond reasonable and would've certainly upset the delicate hierarchy in the wild woods. In the event that tabby enfant terrible chose to join the forest all the bad arsed Sasquatch/demons would've been usurped by a new hurricane of seething hate. Albeit she did purr with people, provided you didn't try to pet her. But all this is moot, because she wasn't fond of car rides. Only one of us would've survived the drive north, and my money isn't on me.